grind.

i'm on that grind at work these days.
rough edges and hard styles,
and thoroughly rural requests and behests
to bequeath the olden days from underneath
the entombed womb of my early career.
huh?
okay, ummm-
tattoos that still look like tattoos,
y'know, like circa '01-'05?
uh-huh.
SO much black outlines.
haha.
those blarpity blops are the marching orders
i've been receiving,
and therefore type of zippity zap-bombing i'm delivering.
lucky for all of us,
my memory is elephantine in every sense.
and so i doo doo that "all 'er and no 'ist"-type sh!t, ninjas.
real talk.
...whatever.
someday,
i will take pictures that aren't flat and busted,
but not today:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
even though the molto blue hues are pretty much invisible,
i really did put 'em in there.
oh well.
how do i get through it?
i keep one idea firmly affixed to my frontal lobes, neighbors-
there is no such thing as a lousy job,
only lousy men who don't care to do it.
straight up early new millenia style,
reppin' throwback jauns in the modern age.
huh?
it's like my man earl simmons says-
give 'em what they want, they all can't get it.
i'm not sure what that exactly means,
but i do know i am all about it.
grinding.
working.
figured it's appropriate to mark what the nose is smelling
alongside the grindstone,
whilst the 'ists are convening in colorado.
it's all really happening,
on both sides of the coin;
never quiet, never soft.....